God is my witness.
I think that-
She's watching over me
As I recite,
Breaking my vocals,
Telling you
Ain't no salvation
Without truth.
As they stood the
Telling you
Traditions are for fools,
And that's true
Cause To them it was new
they were less clued,
hence they were so puffed up
Trying to rip us
Apart from our own origin
You young foes never knew.

These Ungrateful Negros
Wiped away their own,
Just to fit in-
To this thin
White sketched
World
Bombarded with hatred
And a bias society
Only serve the minority
the white community
Not us the inky
Freaks.

Let me finish my craft
As I'm mission ed
To describe his love
Over us
Human kind.
He's the,
Hence I'm always sad
But in the end
I smile like a lunatic
Bliss fed sunnymoon
You find it cute
Over a tooth-smile
But so terribly pieced in side.
Fool me,
Fool you
I play cards too
like a Chief,
I think
Before I do
But as a human being
Sometimes I slip
Off a cliff,
But he grabs my wrist
And smile.
She's my witness
To my unseen weakness,
The sickness
I catch from over doing things-
Like over questioning
His presences.

Because she is the
But I'm unable to prove it
Though he is.
And please
Give him a chance
To love you
Like a mother.

As he loves me.
Cause she does love me.



#TheCreatorHasNoGender

treas-
"Play boys and
Play girls
Play love games
Like play station;
One credit
One heart break
One razor blade".

Imitating the kings
In the utmost of my writings
I add treas-
But still
I find the absolute me.
In this note, I'm being mimic
Thinking I got the treas groove
Did I?
My daily repast  before I publicizes
My poetree
Is Treas poetry.

I'm not the greatest poet
of all time;
I am lesser
And weaker
than your own kind-
But For some
Reason
I have this aching bug
Ring senses into me;
"Write like treas brah"
"Act him"
"Be him"
And I appear to
Like it.

Anyway what's the hold-
Once I was told
By Treas
Writing is sending nudes
But holy blues
to the crowd
And let them reminisce,
Let them judge you
For who you are.
And I'm doing
It.
So judge me if you want.

One time treas
wrote this script note
I unfailingly quote from
Before
Revealing to a person,
Love is a joke;
To the victim it hurts
But it's funny
To the accused.
_
"What is love?"
-treas
Yeah! what is love anyway?
I've been trying to define it
King but I've failed-
Writing it down on my poetry
To get a soul that will correct me;
I've Googling-
Praying
About it
Just to understand it's meaning
But it's pathetic
We already Know it's meaning-
We are looking for someone
To define it
Better.
Someone who will give you the answer you require
The remedy you already know.

I tried to Write like treas-
But i failed.
These kings are beyond human imagination
I won't stifle myself
And let my ink suffer
the treasured
Hand
Is tremendous to copy.
So I'll stop here
Saying
**** star
You really are
A poetic soul
Unlike me
I write monologues
In poetic form.

Write like treas.

Poetry Click-Click
Tears Knock-Knock
Consciousness Ticks-ticks

This Poetry Just Got Me Lost-Lost
And Felt Sick Like The Most-Most

When I Unpack, Her **** Scene
Stir It With Sad Theme,
And Play It Slow Like Emotional Film
They Also Cry In Pain:
Her Fam(Family).
I Touched More Wounds Than I Thought.
As She Feels The Shame
I Wax Her Heart With Sweets Of The Soul
Closing Every Hole
On Her Heart
With Poetical Punchlines
Poet's Undying Lies.

That Moment When I Heal
The Rejected, Almost Aborted Soul.
I Lose My Self Trying To Find The Cure
For His Dark Bleeding Pole
On His Heart, That Is Stretched By Cold Nights'
And Rain Drops, Displayed By City Lights.
I Put Together, Words And Let Him Forget He's An Orphan,
A Deserted Token.

I Always Touch-Touch
Her Wound, From Last Night's Punch
Banging On The Walls
Till Her Beauty Falls.
She Married A Monster,
Though I Plaster
That With Motivations
And Uncomplicated Solutions.

Down-Down
I Go,
After Realizing My Poetry Flopped
Cause They're Souls Not Yet Touched.

Like, That Stripper
Who Found Her Self Deeper
In All Men's Pants.
I Told Her, crazy Facts
But In Malema's Ascent.
At The End I'm Unheard.

Chained In Dark Cells,
With Terrifying Beasts
Unseen, Living spirits
Whom Hurt You Dearly.
They Trapped Me,
And Told Me To Let Go
To Live You Alone,
For You To Remain Hurt On Your psyche.

No-No
I Won't.
I'll Write Till You're Free
For Poetry Free's.
I Always Cook The Soul And Mind Freeing Poetry.